


Succession

by amonitrate



Category: Dollhouse, Iron Man (2008)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amonitrate/pseuds/amonitrate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Tony and Pepper survive the changes to their relationship after the explosion at the arc reactor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Crossover with _Dollhouse_. If you need a basic rundown, [see here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dollhouse_\(TV_series\)). I squicked myself and the Hive while writing this, if that tells you anything.
> 
> Okay, I can't believe I finished this in time for Halloween night. This is entirely unbeta'd crack.
> 
> **Warnings:** an array of wrong and dub con, possibly shading into non con.

"But you'll die!"

"Just do it!"

And she did.

  
He was lying in the rubble of the arc reactor, a S.H.I.E.L.D. extraction crew going to town on the last bits of Mark III encasing him, an I.V. already in one arm, as he watched the paramedics try to drag Pepper away.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, brushing them off.

"You're bleeding," Tony managed.

Pepper absently touched her forehead, her neck, where she'd been scratched by flying glass. "Oh."

"Miss Potts, I insist," Agent Coulson took her elbow, gentleman-like, and urged her back towards the medics.

"No, really, it's nothing--"

"It'll only take a moment."

"But Tony--"

"Mr. Stark will be fine, but you should get checked out," Coulson said.

One of the medics appeared on her other side. "If you'll just let us treat you--"

Pepper's head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowed. "I think a band aid will suffice."

The medic took a hold of her wrist, taking her pulse. "You were in an explosion, you should really come for a treatment _now_, Miss Potts."

Another medic leaned over Tony, fiddling with his I.V. These guys from S.H.I.E.L.D. all looked like they'd been grown in a lab somewhere. Nondescript Feds 'R Us.

"Is she gonna be okay?" he rasped.

"Of course," the medic said as everything started to blur around him. "Next time you see her, she'll be better than new."

  
Tony Stark was a problem. He'd been a problem since he was seven years old. He was erratic, irresponsible, completely hopeless with money, and was possibly the greatest mind of the last forty years. And what Obadiah Stane was, more than a financial whiz and steady hand at the rudder of Stark Industries, was a fixer. A very highly paid fixer.

It didn't take a genius to see that Tony had been in love with his assistant for years. It didn't take a genius to see that said assistant didn't intend on ever taking advantage of that fact. It didn't even take a genius to see how solving this little problem would be to the advantage of everyone involved, but especially to Stane himself. What _did _take genius was making it happen.

  
"Hurry it along? You don't _hurry along _a masterpiece. Do you skip to the end of Beethoven's ninth? No, you let it play out. The art is in the _whole_, in the journey. That's how this _works_. If you skip the middle part, bam, you're right in the middle of creepy love potion territory. This is _science_, not the majicks. Besides, that love potion thing always goes really wrong in the movies."

"Topher. Mr. Stane is a client of long standing. I think we can do as he asks. Unless, of course, you don't think you can--"

"Of course I can _do_ it. But should I? Why's he so impatient, anyway? From everything he's said, it's playing out just as I--"

"It doesn't matter why. What matters is the technology he's supplied us with. Supplied you with, I might point out. And it's not such a big thing, is it? Just a tweak."

"A tweak. A tweak? This is delicate stuff here. The original personality, kept intact, with adjustments to specifications -- _sounds _easy, right? But as I told you at the _time_, working from scratch would have been simpler, and guaranteed the outcome. I _told_ you it might take longer if I didn't do a full wipe, I told you that every time I mess with the original personality, the probability of resistance increases."

"He speaks very highly of you, you know."

"Stane? He's a stuffed suit with a pet genius."

"It's a small thing, and due to the short notice he's paying twice the usual fee. You'll have forty minutes to work. Will this be enough time?"

"Forty minutes? I can barely eat lunch in forty minutes, let alone... When's delivery?"

"Two hours. Hogan needs to have her at the tarmac for Stark's homecoming. Stane insists."

  
"Your eyes are red. Tears for your long lost boss?"

Her nose was red, too, and her hair was an unflattering shade of orange in the sun, but he didn't mention that. He'd given her an opening he was counting on her not to take.

She lifted her chin, obliging. "Tears of joy. I hate job hunting."

Good girl, he thought, looking past her to Hogan, standing unsmiling like some kind of spook by the car.

"Yeah, well, vacation's over."

She turned and waited for him to pass, then followed him to the car.

  
Happy Hogan watched Stane wheel up on his ridiculous Segway and tossed his cigarette to the pavement. Stane waited to speak until his back was to the glass walls separating them from where Tony stood by the arc reactor.

"The imprint go well?"

It wasn't like Tony was paying any attention. Or could read lips, if he was. But Stane had the kind of paranoia that powerful men developed as a reflex. It was too bad no one had ever taught Tony the trick.

"I haven't seen a difference, sir."

Stane's lips quirked. "That means it went well. Pepper going back to the house with him tonight?"

"I don't think so."

"Convince her otherwise."

Then he handed off his Segway and waltzed inside after the prodigal son. And when Happy tried to convince her that maybe Tony needed looking after on his first night back, it was Tony himself who demurred.

  
"What's the point of all this? I mean, don't get me wrong, from a neurological standpoint it's fascinating work, I'm not complaining -- the implications for further application are just about infinite -- but I guess I just don't see the _why _of it."

"He's paying us. That's all the _why_ you've ever needed before this."

"Yeah, but I gotta understand the motivation. Otherwise I might miss something. I mean, ordering up this kind of thing for yourself I totally get. But for some other lucky schmuck?"

"It's a gift, Topher. People do still give gifts. He's known Stark since he was a little boy. Maybe he fancies himself a match maker."

"Hell of a gift."

"Yes. And gifts are often given for a reason beyond the altruistic. But whatever that reason is for Stane, it's not for us to concern ourselves over."

  
He didn't know what to do with his hands. He hadn't been thinking, hadn't had any kind of plan, he'd just seen her there in that very un-Pepper like dress and decided they needed to dance. There'd been a moment where he was sure she was going to roll her eyes at him and shrug him off but she didn't and that moment shifted to one where neither of them was doing much breathing, and then they were outside, and she was in run-on sentence mode, and he wasn't even sure what the big deal was, and then she grabbed him and leaned in and something in his mind just went blank, like an erased hard drive. Nothing there. Null set. And then _that_ moment passed and other things happened and it's not like he forgot about it, exactly, but there were more pressing things to take care of and then Obadiah was dead. Obadiah was dead and he was Iron Man and there were more pressing things to worry about than whether or not Pepper had meant to kiss him.

  
"DeWitt."

"Topher."

"I won't do it."

"Oh?"

"It doesn't make any kind of _sense_."

"He's left you the funds to build an entirely new lab."

"Our actives have a contract. This..."

"You don't think it will work?"

"It'll work. But someone will catch on. Stark will catch on. Won't he?"

"That's not something we need to worry about."

"It will be if it leads him to us."

"It won't."

"You're so sure?"

"We have insurance."

"Hogan?"

"Among others."

"Hogan won't like it."

"Hogan doesn't know what the new imprint entails. And Hogan will do as he's told."

  
"You're not Iron Man."

There was a smirk, a definite smirk. Tony grinned, half relieved at the normalcy of it, half buzzed on adrenalin, half still confused about the entire thing. Wait, that was three halves.

"If I were Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who knew my true identity. She'd be a wreck. She'd always be worrying I was going to die, yet so proud of the man I've become. She'd be wildly conflicted, which would only make her more crazy about me. Tell me you never think about that night?"

He waited, making sure not to bat his eyelashes at her, which would just be over the top.

"What night?" Pepper didn't do coy, but damn that was close.

What night? _What night?_ What other night was there, besides _last_ night, and he wasn't planning on doing any thinking about _last_ night any time soon.

"You know."

That not-quite-coy look turned a shade calculated, not that you'd know from her tone. "Oh, are you talking about the night where we danced and went up to the roof, and you went downstairs to get me a drink and you left me there by myself?" Okay, so, yeah, even her tone had gained a point by the end, there.

"Uh-huh." Right. So maybe there wouldn't be any talking about _that_ night either.

Pepper's smile went a tad smug, and if Pepper wasn't ever coy, she was smug even less often.

"Thought so. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

  
They didn't talk about that night on the balcony, or the explosion at the arc reactor, but she did start hanging around the workshop more, setting up her laptop in the sitting area on the big leather couch instead of upstairs.

If she was working later, he couldn't tell, because she'd been working twelve-plus hour days for years. But it seemed like she was around more. Or maybe he was just noticing when she was around more than he had before.

He'd catch her, sometimes, smiling at him when she didn't think he was looking. He wasn't sure what it meant, and he couldn't read the smile, and when he'd turn to smile back she didn't look away, or blush, or get flustered.

And when he'd return from a mission, ten to one she'd be there, with a mug of coffee and an open first aid kit. She never asked him where he went, and he never offered, but she always seemed to know when he'd get back.

  
It took Rhodey about two months after the press conference to cool down enough to actually come over to the house in his civvies and just hang.

"Ground rules, Tony," Rhodey said, about five seconds after he'd walked through the door. "I'm here as your friend. So no business. That means I don't ask you about whatever the hell you're doing with that battle armor of yours, and you don't ask me what the military thinks about whatever the hell you're doing with the armor."

"Wow. Hi to you too. How have you been? I've been just peachy."

"Tony." Pepper slipped into the living room from the kitchen, beer bottles in both hands. Two in one hand, one in the other. "Hi Jim, it's good to see you."

He'd thought she'd already left.

"Doesn't he ever let you go home?" Rhodey asked as he took one of the offered beers.

Tony glanced sidelong at her, but she had that Mona Lisa smile again as she handed him the second beer and kept the third for herself. The bottle was cold and a little slippery and she'd already popped the caps off. They were both staring at him now, so he plopped down on the couch, sprawling with one arm over the back.Rhodey settled into the leather slingback chair with a sigh, taking a long swallow of beer. Pepper circumnavigated the big wood table to join Tony on the couch. If she'd leaned back against the cushions he could have run his hand up the bare nape of her neck.

He couldn't take his eyes off of the rim of the bottle as it met her mouth. He'd never seen her drink anything other than a martini or the occasional glass of wine at client dinners.

"So what's there to talk about, if business is off limits?" Tony blurted out. Jim rolled his eyes.

"There's that time you stole a police car and put it on top of the Great Dome. It made the New York Times, didn't it?"

Rhodey made a noise unbecoming to an Air Force officer and sat up. "You told her about that? Man, you were lucky they only called Obadiah. Lucky he didn't tell your parents. How much money did it take to convince them not to expel you _that _time?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. "As I remember it, you were right there with me. Funny how no one called _your _parents."

"Forty grand," Pepper said with a toothy grin.

"What?" Tony sputtered. "It wasn't that much."

Pepper nodded, her beer bottle dangling idly from between two fingers. "Forty grand even."

"How do you even _know _that?" Rhodey managed, after he'd stifled his unmanly giggles.

"The things I know about Tony Stark could fill a book," Pepper said. "Two, even. A multivolume series."

"Good thing your lawyers make everyone sign that nondisclosure agreement, then," Rhodey said, pointing at Tony with his beer.

"Good thing," Tony said.

  
It wasn't like he'd meant to be celibate or anything, it had just sort of happened. When he'd first got back from Afghanistan there had been building the armor, and after that had been using the armor, and wrenching his company back from Obadiah's buddies on the board. Not much time for casual socializing.

And yeah, he thought about Pepper in an inappropriate manner sometimes when she wasn't around, and when she was around he tried not to think about anything, because he was sure she'd notice. Pepper noticed things. But Pepper had made her feelings on the issue pretty damn clear, and he'd been bored, and Jennifer was a lithe, raven-haired aspiring actress a dissertation shy of a PhD in the history of medieval warfare, and they'd spent four hours arguing over siege engines in Whiskey Blue with a side trip to the lady's room half way through where he got the chance to practice a few techniques that he'd been half afraid might have got rusty since Ms. Brown. Turned out it was just like riding a bike.

He'd never actually learned to ride a bike, but that's the phrase people used, so he supposed it was appropriate.

"I think that's your phone," Jennifer said, dipping a finger into her ridiculous Godiva martini. Most of the aspiring actresses in this place tended towards vodka, straight up.

"What?" His phone, right. He tore himself away from the historian's evil attempt to drink her martini the long way and stabbed at it without looking. "Yeah?"

"Tony! Oh, I wasn't sure I'd get through."

"Pepper?" His watch said one-forty five. In the A.M. "It's...really really late. What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing. I couldn't get a hold of you at the house, and Jarvis said you were out, and it's late, and I got a little worried when you didn't answer your phone the first time, so..."

"Oh," he said. Across from him, Jennifer cocked her head. Her bare foot ran up his calf. "Uh, I'm fine. Better than fine. I'll, uh..."

"Where are you?"

"Just... out. In L.A."

"Beso?"

"No. What's going on, Potts?"

"I was just surprised, is all. You haven't gone out much since you got back, and when I couldn't reach you..."

Jennifer's toes circled his knee. He reached under the table and grabbed her by the arch, his thumb at the ball of her foot. She grinned and the foot flexed in his hand. He'd stopped listening to Pepper, who was apparently still talking.

"...and you've got that meeting tomorrow with Oscorp so don't do the all night thing, okay? Who are you with?"

"A friend. I'll get some sleep, promise. Can I go now?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Just pocketed the phone and called for the check.

  
"Hogan. You're not due to check in for another month. Has something changed?"

"She's been acting... strange."

"Strange how, exactly? Topher hasn't mentioned any spikes in her vitals."

"She's different this time. I didn't notice at first, but... well, I think she's living in the house."

"In Stark's house, you mean? That is interesting. Did he invite her?"

"That's just it. I don't think he's even noticed."

"But otherwise? Anything we should know about?"

"No... it's hard to explain. She's just different."

"That was the entire point of this operation, Mr. Hogan. You agreed to the position knowing your charge would undergo a few changes."

"I know, but--"

"Have they become involved? Stark and Potts?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Well, I'd be surprised if they did, at this point. But keep us informed, yes?"

"Yeah. Alright."

  
He'd been tinkering in the workshop all day when Pepper tapped his shoulder.

"You haven't eaten since yesterday, as far as I can tell. I've made us reservations. Go get cleaned up," she said, all business.

Reservations happened to be at Beso, in Hollywood. Definitely more upscale than their usual on the fly supper. When Happy dropped them off, Tony turned a raised brow on Pepper, who just smiled.

"I thought we needed a change of pace," she said.

"We could split the porterhouse," Tony offered, once they'd been seated.

"I'll have the scallops," Pepper told their waiter. Tony ended up with paella.

The first time Pepper's fingers brushed his, he glanced up quickly, surprised, but she hadn't seemed to have noticed. A glass of wine later, she punctuated some point by covering his hand where it lay on the tablecloth with hers, and let the touch linger, before pulling away to take another sip from her glass. So when she spoke, and it wasn't directed at him, he was more than a little thrown.

"Ms. Everhart. This is a surprise."

Tony glanced up from his plate to find Christine Everhart seated at the small table closest to their booth, dressed to the nines in a sleek white minidress with a fitted jacket.

"Maybe I could join you?" Everhart asked sweetly.

"Oh, I don't think that would be at all appropriate," Pepper said, casually pleasant.

"I only need a minute," Everhart said to Tony, ignoring Pepper. She stood up from her table and slid into the booth next to Tony and he scooted over without thinking about it because she was wearing the same perfume she'd had on at the benefit. "I've been trying to schedule an interview with you for weeks, but somehow you never have time."

"What's this about?" he glanced at Pepper, who wasn't giving anything away.

"I helped you out once, Stark. I think you can return the favor. I need some information, and I'm hitting dead ends everywhere I look."

Pepper sat back. "You have five minutes before I call security."

"Fair enough," Everhardt flashed a grin, then turned her earnest reporter face on him. "I'm investigating the Rossum corporation's ties to an illegal, black market organization called the Dollhouse. But Rossum's more secretive than Blackwater. An F.B.I. agent on their trail was suddenly fired and then vanished, about six months ago. I've seen the files he left behind, and it's not much to go on. But I'm hoping you might have had contact with Rossum. Or even the Dollhouse. It's your kind of place."

"My kind of...." Tony grinned. "It sounds like a brothel." Pressing Ms. Brown's buttons was always an adventure. Under the table, the toe of Pepper's shoe impacted his ankle in precisely the right angle to elicit the most pain.

Everhart continued, in no mood to let him push her buttons. "It is a brothel, more or less. Very high end, very expensive, very hush hush. The F.B.I. suspected some form of trafficking, at least until the entire investigation was disappeared."

Tony shifted in his seat. Pepper had folded her hands, watching Everhart.

"I've heard of them, of course. Of Rossum, I mean. I think we had a contract to sell them medical imaging technology. But that was probably ten years ago, now."

"And the Dollhouse?" Everhart pressed.

"Rumors, maybe. Locker room bragging. Frankly, I thought it was an urban legend."

"No one's ever approached you?"

Tony frowned. "Why would they? It's not like I'm ever wanting for... company."

Everhart cocked her head, considering him. Her thigh was warm against his, and she was wearing her hair down the way she had the first time she interrogated him in public. He stared back. What was she looking for, exactly? Did she think he was lying?

"They specialize in giving their clients what they want. Fantasies, no matter how elaborate or detailed or... realistic. You want a girl to fall in love with you and mean it? An exact recreation of your high school sweetheart?"

"He didn't have a high school sweetheart," Pepper pointed out, and the indulgent tone was odd, but she really hated getting ambushed by the press. "Hard to do when you skip high school."

"I... get the point," Tony said. Pepper wasn't smiling, but she wasn't kicking Everhart to the door, either, and it had been much longer than five minutes. Or it felt that way. "Sorry. It sounds to me like you know more about them than I do at this point."

Everhart gave him a sharp nod, disappointment clear in the set of her jaw.

"What about Stane?" she asked, just when he'd thought she was going to leave.

"What about him?" Pepper shot back. She'd lost all pretense at humoring the reporter. Tony wasn't sure he blamed her.

"Did he have any involvement with Rossum?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe. I didn't exactly keep track of his personal business." And he was still paying for it.

"I assume you've looked into Rossum's investors," Pepper said.

Everhart nodded. "Rossum isn't publicly traded. I've got a few leads, but Stane invested heavily in biotechnology. So--"

"I can check with his estate," Pepper said with a tight smile.

Everhart blinked. "Thank you."

She fished a card from her purse and slid it across the table top to Pepper. As if they didn't already have all of her personal information on file from the first time she'd just happened to run into him in public. Naivete or ingrained professionalism? Tony couldn't decide.

With that, Everhart unfolded herself from the booth, straightening her jacket. "I'm sure I'll run into you again soon," she said, and dropping a fifty on her untouched table, headed for the door.

  
"Well," Pepper said, once they were in the back of the Rolls. "I wonder what she thinks she's onto?"

Tony shrugged. "Who cares?"

"And if Obadiah was involved somehow?" Pepper said, toying with the cuffs of her jacket.

"Like I said. Who cares? I have enough on my plate already, cleaning up the mess he left behind. Let Everhardt deal with Rossum."

"They did buy Stark technology," Pepper pointed out. "If Rossum is involved in the Dollhouse, if it exists, that might make us look bad."

"We sold them a glorified MRI ten years ago. I don't see how that's relevant to some kind of luxury bordello."

Pepper nodded.

"Look," he said, taking the opportunity to watch the neon drift by outside the window. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Don't take this the wrong way. I mean, I'm glad and everything, but I think I need to know."

"Tony," Pepper said, even and patient. "Spit it out, whatever it is."

He took a breath. "Why didn't you leave, back when you said you would?" He couldn't help it; he turned to see her reaction. Which was pointless, because she didn't react. Much.

She tilted her head. "I think you already know."

"Pretend I'm not a genius," he said.

Pepper smiled, her hand finding his, warm and smooth. "Oh, Tony. You always did need everything spelled out for you."

With that she leaned in, her hand slipping to curve around his thigh, and what the hell was she doing? Tony tried to pull away but her other hand cupped his jaw, and then she was half in his lap, one of her legs between his, her knee nudging his crotch, pressing him back against the seat.

"Pepper..." It came out more like a squeak. "What're you..."

Her hands gripped his hair, and _what the fuck_ she was kissing him, no ambiguity this time. He was too shocked to respond at first, his hands curled at his sides. When he didn't kiss her back, she made a little sound in her throat and then her teeth sunk into his bottom lip, hard.

Tony found something to do with his hands. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved.

"Ow," he said, the back of his hand brushing his lip, coming away smeared red.

Pepper pulled away, smiling, and sat back in her own seat. Like nothing had happened.

  
"Hogan, this had better not become a regular thing."

"I want to bring her in, DeWitt."

"The imprint isn't holding? Have there been side effects?"

"I don't know. No. But why does it matter now? Stane's dead. Shouldn't we--"

"His wishes on this matter were very specific."

"But she didn't agree to any of this. She doesn't even know it's happened, and neither does Tony. How do we know she'd be making the choices she's making if--"

"If she was herself? Mr. Hogan, it's very chivalrous of you to protect Miss Potts' honor this way, but we signed a contract with Mr. Stane. And she signed a contract with him as well, whether she read the fine print or not. Potts isn't to be restored until we receive word."

"Word? He's dead. Who's going to give you _word_?"

"While I appreciate your concern, I assure you the situation is under control. If you find it distasteful, you can be relieved of your duties and go back to being Mr. Stark's driver."

"No. You don't need to do that."

"Then we understand one another?"

"Yeah. I got it."

"Good."

  
Scotch seemed like the best course of action under the circumstances. After a couple of tumblers full, Tony was ready to laugh at himself for freaking out in the Rolls. Just because Pepper had kissed him. Hadn't he been the one lobbying for her to be some kind of loyal superhero's girlfriend?

Somehow the loyal girlfriend biting him in the back of his own car hadn't been what he'd had in mind. Not that he didn't go for that kind of thing; he did. But this was Pepper, and just a couple of months ago she'd protested dancing with him in public, and tonight she'd jumped him out of nowhere, and his mouth still hurt.

He downed more scotch, and the bite stopped throbbing, or he stopped feeling it throb, and his bed was large and empty and cool.

Not nearly enough time later he woke to the sound of rain.

Tony sat up. The floor to ceiling windows lit up automatically, revealing crystalline blue skies and miles and miles of sunlit ocean. Jarvis rattled off the weather forecast and the surfing conditions.

Not a raincloud in sight.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared at his bare knees. He hadn't had _that_ much to drink -- where had his pants gone? He was still wearing his dress shirt from last night, and his fitted boxers, but his pants were... folded neatly on the end of the bed.

Huh.

And it was still raining. Or. It still sounded like rain. No, no. Not rain at all, but--

Maybe after last night he shouldn't have been surprised to find Pepper lathering herself up in his shower. It wasn't like his shower left anything to the imagination -- he'd never seen the point of modesty in his own bathroom, so the enclosure was pristine glass, barely fogged by steam.

Her hair was a darker rose-bronze under the water, slicked back from her forehead. Without the armor of her suits she was small breasted and lithe. One slim hand pressed between her thighs, fingers disappearing, and her back arched, her ribs moving under wet skin.

Christ.

When he finally met her eyes, she was smiling that unreadable smile, her unoccupied hand cupping one breast.

"Good morning," she said.

"Jarvis, shut off the water." he managed.

"To the entire house, sir?"

Pepper let out a laugh. "Just the master bathroom," she clarified for him.

It was a mistake. Once the shower cut off he could hear her breathing, hear the wet sound her fingers were making.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Tony, really, you used to be smarter than this. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like my assistant is naked in my shower."

Her lips quirked. "Wasn't this what you wanted? Or was that speech you laid on me a couple of months ago just about a chaste lady and her chivalrous knight?"

"I don't--"

"Subtlety wasn't working. I tried subtle for years. I thought it would be obvious, after you got back from Afghanistan, but you were so wrapped up in your armor you barely noticed I was there. So," she shrugged. Slipped out of the shower and onto the ceramic tile floor, beads of water running down her flushed skin and pooling around her manicured feet. "I decided to step things up a bit."

"Pepper, this isn't-- I know things have been stressful, I know I've put you through a lot of--"

"You're not a subtle guy, Tony. Never have been." She took the last step into his space, and he scooted backwards, tripping over his own feet. "Jesus Christ, do you need an engraved invitation? What's the problem?"

His back hit the wall, his shirt already clinging to his skin from the steam. "Pepper--"

"Tony." She pressed against him, one hand curling around the base of his neck, the other smoothing down his hip to cup his ass. "You know you want this."

He didn't know what he wanted. She was warm and solid and her tongue found the hollow of his throat and wasn't this what he wanted? He'd thought it was. But there were rules about what one did with one's personal assistant, with anyone on one's payroll, and he was pretty sure this violated about thirty of them.

"When did you get so uptight?" Pepper said into his collarbone, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

"Around the time you bit me with no warning?" he muttered, and she laughed, the fingers of her other hand digging into the spot where his ass met his thigh.

"I know for a fact you're a biter, so don't give me that. All those girls, so proud of how you marked them."

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Tony tried to pull away, but she was stronger than she looked and her thigh was between his legs and he was such an idiot.

"Let go, Pepper." It shouldn't have come out like such a plea.

"No," she said, and then the back of his head hit the wall because she grabbed his dick through his boxers and squeezed.

"I don't want to... I don't want to hurt you," he choked, one of his hands coming up to push at her shoulder, but her skin was wet and he was sweating and she slid out of his grip like a debauched mermaid.

"What if I want you to hurt me?"

"Fuck," he managed, shoving at her one more time.

"That's the entire idea. You are incredibly slow on the uptake sometimes." And then she stopped talking, because her teeth and tongue were busy at his throat, and her hand had worked its way past the waistband of his boxers, and his dick wasn't at all worried about what his head did or didn't want.

 

His back stung. Tony leaned on the balcony outside his bedroom and let the constant ocean breeze hold him up. His back stung and he felt like he'd been disjointed and the sun was full on hot but he was shivering, just a little.

"You always did love the ocean."

He didn't turn but bare skin brushed the skin of his back and then Pepper was standing next to him, something in her hands. There was a familiar metallic flick and he couldn't help it, he glanced at her sidelong to find her lighting a cigar, as naked as he was. Well, almost. His discarded tie from the night before was draped over her neck, the ends dipping down between her breasts.

"Found it in your nightstand." She took a puff of the cigar and then held it out to him. "Here."

He took the cigar, welcoming the harsh smoke in his throat, the slight dizzy thrill of nicotine.

"This wasn't what I thought it would be," he said, not at all sure what he was trying to say.

Pepper took the cigar from him and pulled a long draw, blowing a perfect stream of smoke between her lips. "What did you think it would be? Roses and candlelight? Maybe a daring rescue before hand?" She let out a bright peal of laughter. "I never would have pegged you for a romantic, Tony."

"I'm not."

"Aren't you?" Pepper wasn't the best mimic, but he recognized his own words when he heard them. "'She'd always be worrying I was going to die, yet so proud of the man I've become.'"

She passed back the cigar and he was grateful to have something to do with his hands that didn't involve touching her.

"Are you?" he asked.

"Am I what?" They were facing each other again, his hip against the railing.

"Proud."

She reached out and ran her fingertips lightly over the arc reactor.

"I saved your life, didn't I?"

And then she sunk to her knees, and whatever he'd hoped she'd say fragmented.

  
"What the hell were you thinking, fucking Pepper? She _works _for you."

Maybe he should have called first. He'd shown up at Rhodey's door bearing Korean barbecue and enough vodka to anesthetize an elephant but apparently that wasn't quite enough to convince Rhodey to take his side. If there were sides. He still wasn't sure about that part.

"It wasn't my idea," Tony insisted. "It just--"

"Happened?" Rhodey had given up the pretense of eating and was just staring at him. "Your dick just happened to--"

"Yeah. Pretty much. Look, she started it. I guess I wasn't thinking, I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know what _she_ was thinking. It was definitely a mutual session of not thinking at all."

"She works for you, Tony."

This was going so well. He'd forgotten what it felt like, to be fifteen years old and trying to explain himself. But Rhodey wasn't his goddamn advisor at MIT.

"You already said that. Look, I didn't... She was in my shower, okay? I think she's moved into that suite Obie used to stay in. Her stuff is in the dresser. And I know for a fact that room has its own shower, and there are three other showers she could have picked if for some bizarre reason that one wasn't working. But I woke up and she was in mine, and my pants were gone, and did I mention she bit me the other night?"

At that, Rhodey flat out lost it. Guffawing like a lunatic, like Tony had brought this to him to brighten his fucking day.

"Glad you find this so hilarious."

"You just sound... a little weirded out, is all. What's the big deal?"

Tony stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork until it fell into pieces. "Well, as you just pointed out repeatedly, she does work for me. I mean, if the company didn't require that kind of thing to be arbitrated in-house, she could sue me for sexual harassment, right?"

"I don't know about that, since she's the one who showed up in your shower." Rhodey took a shot of vodka, straight, at that, and Tony followed his lead. "Look, yeah, it's not the smartest move you've ever made, but it's not like you haven't been mooning over her for years.What're you complaining about?"

The vodka burned on the way down. "_Mooning_? What, are we in the fifties now?"

"I've known you since the only action you ever got was your own hand. So yeah, I recognize mooning when I see it. Did you ask her about it?"

"About what?" What this conversation needed was more vodka. Rhodey obliged, pouring them both double shots.

"Moving into your house. And the shower. And the biting." And finally, finally, Rhodey looked the tiniest bit like he was giving it all some thought. "It is a bit... out of character."

"I started to, and that conversation ended in screaming, and not the angry kind, so yeah. Not so much."

"That's... enough detail, thanks. So what're you going to do?"

Drink more vodka. "I dunno. I mean, it's Pepper. Right? Two months ago she gave me the 'You're not _my_ Iron Man' line, so forgive me if I'm a little confused."

"Maybe she got tired of waiting for you to calculate the equation for the removal of your head from your ass."

Apparently the moment where Rhodey took him seriously was short lived.

"Great. Thanks. So you're telling me I got what I asked for so I should shut up already and enjoy it?"

"More or less, yeah. Look, if you don't want her living with you, just ask her to leave."

Turned out, there wasn't enough vodka in the world for this conversation.

"Real chivalrous," he muttered.

"What?"

"Never mind."

  
"You've got a reporter snooping around after you, Ms. DeWitt."

"Is this a secure connection?"

"Of course it is. Do you take me for an amateur?"

"No. But it's highly irregular for you to contact me in this way. Hogan informed me of Stark's little run-in with Christine Everhart. She's got nothing."

"She's resourceful. She gets information she shouldn't have access to. People talk to her."

"No one is going to talk to her about the Dollhouse."

"So your plan is to what? Let her play Nancy Drew until she gets bored?"

"If it comes to it, our pet F.B.I. agent can make a surprise reappearance and explain that the whole thing was a hoax."

"Oh, Adelle. You really are naive, aren't you? That'll just make Everhart dig deeper. She's a fucking terrier, that one."

"So what do you propose we do about the problem?"

"I'm not proposing anything. But you should know she's made a connection between Rossum and Stane."

"Playing a hunch. Will she find anything?"

"Of course not. But I can't guarantee Tony won't, if he gets off his ass long enough to look."

"So make sure he's distracted. Wasn't that the idea? As far as Everhart goes, we'll take care of it. We wouldn't want you to risk exposing yourself."

"How do I know you won't just pull Potts in for another 'treatment' and get rid of the problem that way?"

"You've been very generous to us over the years."

"That's not an answer."

"No, it's not."

"You try anything we haven't agreed on, there'll be repercussions."

"I don't doubt it. Now, if there's nothing else, we have a very busy schedule."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dafnap and obsession_inc supplied important elements, and the Hive at large watched in horror and cheered me on. I couldn't have done it without them. They will perhaps disown me for this.

Tony spent the night on Rhodey's couch, with the excuse that he was too trashed to drive. It wasn't exactly an excuse, since between them he and Rhodey had nearly finished off a bottle of Armadale, but Pepper was back at the house, and he figured a little distance might not be a bad thing.

Morning was Rhodey's hangover cure -- Gatorade and a bacon sandwich -- and three voice mails from Pepper that he didn't listen to. By the time he hit the Stark Industries campus, it was nearly nine. Late. He'd probably missed a meeting. He left his sunglasses on and the staff were used to the occasional casual Wednesday and so no one blinked at the jeans and leather jacket. Besides, if there was something important, Pepper kept a spare suit in his office.

She was waiting for him when he stepped off the elevator, clipboard tucked in the crook of one arm, her Blackberry in her other hand. Hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, makeup as clean and barely there as ever. Chocolate brown pantsuit that looked familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark," she said. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning either. It was a perfectly professional expression and he didn't know what to make of it, so he just echoed her good morning and walked on past her to his office.

They went on like that for most of the morning: her keeping his coffee filled and hot, reminding him of the conference call with Oracle and his monthly meeting with the heads of R&amp;D him ignoring the fact that the last time he'd seen her, she'd been swallowing his dick on the balcony over the ocean, wearing nothing but one of his ties.

He'd almost _almost_ decided he'd hallucinated the entire thing when after lunch Pepper slipped into his office and shut the door behind her. He glanced up from a pile of blueprints on his desk in time to see her turn the lock.

"Potts," he started, "We should probably--"

"About... about what happened--"

An awkward barking laugh escaped him. "You first."

Pepper nodded, once, and gave him a tentative smile. "I'm sorry. I realized I... I was just... tired of waiting, Tony, and... well, that's no excuse."

For possibly the third time in his adult life, Tony had no idea what to say. She crossed the room to stand in front of his desk, like a supplicant.

"I've been meaning to give you this, and I thought... a peace offering?"

It was a box. A small box that fit into the center of her palm, wrapped in glossy brown paper. No bow.

Pepper set the box on the desk and retreated a step.

The paper was stiff under his hands and he couldn't look at her when he opened it, because the last time she'd given him anything he'd ended up destroying it. Saved his life, yeah; but the sense memory of that moment, his hands shaking, his breaths locked in his chest, grips him again and he fumbled a little with the wrapping. Underneath the paper was a plain box. A jewelry box. He opened the hinge and inside, on a satin cushion, sat a pair of cuff links.

At first he wasn't sure what he was looking at, didn't register the objects as cuff links, just saw the worn patrician profile staring up at him. They were coins, old silver coins set in gold.  
"DICT PERPETVO CAESAR," Pepper read, perched on the edge of his desk. "Julius Caesar had them minted when he declared himself emperor for life."

They were heavy in his hands, a mismatched pair, one each, obverse and reverse of an ancient Roman coin. "These were my dad's," he said, the realization lagging a second behind the words.

"I kept them for you; it just never seemed like the right time. They were a gift from your mother."

He nodded. "Anniversary, or something? I don't remember."

Her mouth curves into a smile. "I think it was her idea of a joke."

Pepper had never met his mother. He frowned at her, his thumb running over the profile of Caesar, blurred with millenia. "Where did you find them?"

"When I went through Stane's office. He didn't have much that was personal, but these were in his desk. I thought you'd want them."

"I... Thank you."

She'd slipped off his desk and started for the door when his brain caught up with his nostalgia.

"How'd you know? About my mother."

Pepper turned, head slightly cocked to the side. "What?"

"You said it was her idea of a joke. The Caesar thing. How'd you know?"

A reluctant frown passed over her face and then dissipated. "When you were gone. I'd... I asked Obadiah to tell me stories, you know? Trying to keep hope alive."

"Is that how you knew about my forty grand hack?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry, if that's not something you wanted me to know..."

Tony laughed. "That story is probably still passed around campus as What Not To Do If You Want To Graduate, so no big deal, Potts."

Pepper smiled. "Don't forget your meeting with Nick Fury tonight. Could you sign off on those plans before you go play superhero?"

"Yeah, sure. And Potts?"

"Yes?"

"Can we, you know. Try the roses and candles thing? Maybe just the once."

She looked on the edge of laughing at him, but she just nodded. "Anything and everything you require, Mr. Stark."

  
Since the boss was out with his S.H.I.E.L.D. pals, Happy Hogan hadn't been expecting a call that night, but around five his phone rang.

"Happy," Pepper Potts declared, "I think recent events call for a new dress."

He wasn't sure what to make of that. Pepper had always been a clothes horse, sure, but she never talked about it. Despite long hours at the job and infrequent weekends off, she was just always impeccably dressed, as if by magic. Happy had figured she did her shopping online.

"Where do you want to go?" Happy asked after he'd ushered her into the back of the Rolls and settled back in the driver's seat.

"Vionnet. In West Hollywood."

He knew where it was. Tony sometimes bought trinkets there for the women he kept around for more than one night.

Pepper settled against the leather seat and ignored him while he navigated the freeway from Stark Industries to West Hollywood. She occasionally frowned at her Blackberry, but otherwise silence filled the Rolls.

She spent two hours in the boutique before calling him again to come inside and help her carry her purchases out to the car. Bags and bags of tissue wrapped cloth, and in the end she herself carried only her purse. She watched him stow the bags in the trunk and then waited for him to hold the door open for her.

"Looks like you found what you were looking for," he said after he'd merged onto the Santa Monica Freeway.

"Oh, yes." Pepper answered, absently.

"Should I take you home?"

"Hmm?"

"To Pacific Palisades?" he stressed.

"Oh, no thank you, Happy. You can drop me off at the Malibu house."

"You've been spending a lot of time there."

She finally spared him a glance. "What's this about?"

"You haven't been home for a week. At least," he bit down on a nervous stutter. "I was just..."

"Concerned?" She smiled at him, a pale echo of her usual sweetness. "How very white knight of you."

The words hit him like a slap. "Miss Potts, I didn't mean any disrespect. I-- was just worried, is all. Are you sure you're okay?"

Pepper's smile broadened to show teeth. "You're not paid to worry about me, Hogan. You'd be wise to remember that."

Happy's mouth shut with a click, and he turned back to the road. Something was very, very wrong.

  
"DeWitt, you've got to let me bring her in. Please."

"What is it this time, Hogan?"

"That last treatment. It changed her. I want to know what you did."

"Mr. Stark appears contented. What exactly is your point?"

"I can't just... I can't just stand by and watch you people use her like this."

"You can and you will. You did sign a contract. And Mr. Stane arranged for your sister's release from the California Institution for Women, I believe. Isn't that right? But I believe she's still on parole. And the recidivism rate is so high these days."

"There's things you don't know. About Stane. You don't have all the information."

"I have all the information I need -- a signed, deposited check. Will that be all, Mr. Hogan?"

  
The last place Tony expected to run into Christine Everhart was Cosentino's Florist, half way between Point Dume and Santa Monica. He didn't notice her at first, too engrossed in picking out the promised roses for Pepper. But a familiar voice from the gift shop's display of designer handbags turned his head, and there she was, in a waifish sundress, hair in a messy ponytail, a fresh yellow lily stuck in the elastic.

"Why Ms. Brown. Do I need to file a restraining order? Everywhere I turn, there you are."

Everhart turned and smiled at him, but it was a vague, _who are you again_ kind of smile. A variety he was all too familiar with giving, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd been on the receiving end.

Faint recognition bloomed. "Mr. Stark. I'd forgotten you lived around here. How are you?"

Tony blinked. "Curious. Yep, I'd go with curious."

She fingered a tiny spring green clutch, and tilted her head. "Whatever about?" There was no hint of coyness or obfuscation; she seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Last time you happened to run into me in public you were grilling me about some high end cat house, is all."

The puzzlement lingered, and then she brightened. "Oh, that. It didn't go anywhere. Total urban legend. My editors are never going to let me live that one down."

Huh. "You don't seem the gullible type," he started, but she brushed past him to the counter, the little purse in her hand.

"Well, sometimes you take a risk for a story that doesn't pan out," she shrugged, handing the cashier her credit card. How she could afford a $1,200 CarlosFalchi ostrich clutch on a freelance reporter's salary would be a story in and of itself.

  
Hogan lit his second cigarette in twenty minutes. Stubbed it out. Lit another one without thinking about it five minutes later. He watched as the reporter,Everhart, carried a small shopping bag out of Cosentino's and climbed into her car without at glance in his direction.

Tony was taking his goddamn time over the flowers.

Everhart's Prius disappeared down the PCH, and Happy tried to convince his jangled nerves to settle the hell down.

Another ten minutes, and Tony appeared, carrying a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers wrapped in florist's paper.

"Is there some rare astrological convergence going on that no one's bothered to tell me about?" Tony mused as he climbed into the passenger seat of the Rolls.

Happy wasn't sure why he'd been asked to drive if Tony was just going to ride up front. Happy usually enjoyed Tony's chatter, but today it grated.

It wasn't like he owed Tony anything. He didn't.

"Not that I know of, sir."

But maybe he owed Pepper.

"Huh. Because I would have thought Christine Everhart dropping a story would be the first sign of the apocalypse."

Happy carefully didn't meet Tony's eye. "That is unusual." He pulled the car onto the highway and headed for Malibu.

"Yeah. It's been a falling-down-the-rabbit-hole kinda week."

Happy took a breath, let it out with a puff. "Sir, I've been meaning to talk to you about that." The car was possibly bugged. Happy had checked every inch himself, but that didn't mean he hadn't missed something.

"Spill, Hogan."

"It's just... Miss Potts."

"Yeah?" Tony fished a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and slipped them on.

"You haven't... noticed anything different? About her?"

The choked sound that escaped Tony was answer enough. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"She's just... been erratic. Since the arc reactor. Not herself." Happy guided the Rolls with one hand. He sucked at this kind of thing. Pussy-footing around the truth. But if he came out and said it... Tony would never believe him. And there would be consequences.

"Nothing much as been the same since then," Tony said blithely.

"Yeah, I know. I just. I'm just worried," Happy struggled. "That maybe she's doing things that she might regret. Later. That you might regret."

Tony's jaw worked. Silence made the car stuffy and hot.

"I appreciate the concern," Tony said finally. "But we're all big boys and girls."

Shit. He hadn't handled it right. He knew Tony felt it too, but Tony didn't have all the information, and Happy couldn't risk giving it to him. Not unless he wanted to end up like Christine Everhart.

  
"Hogan's becoming a problem."

"I thought we understood one another. Direct contact is too great a risk."

"I want him out of the way."

"And you expect us to take care of that for you? And here I thought you were a problem solver."

"He's your man, isn't he?"

"He was Stark's man first, if you remember."

"He was a bad choice for this operation. He's too personally attached."

"There was no one else. You said so yourself, at the time. Stark is too isolated, a stranger would have been suspect."

"Hogan doesn't have the balls to see this through, Adelle, and you know it."

"Hogan won't compromise Miss Potts. He's in love with her, you know."

"And _that's_ not an issue?"

"He knows his place. Do you know yours? Or have you forgotten the entire reason you set all this up?"

"You don't know the first thing about why I'm--"

"Nor do I care to. But if you've strayed from whatever objective you had in mind when you began, I imagine Hogan's crisis of conscience will be the least of your worries."

"You really are a frigid bitch, DeWitt."

"Why, because I never fell pry to your charms? You really have been spending too much time around Stark, my dear."

"And Hogan?"

"Is on a short leash. Why don't you try using some of your legendary charm? Or do you need our help with that, too?"

  
Tony spent the day away from the house, only returning with enough time to shower and change before they'd agreed to meet for dinner. His stomach was in knots like this was his first shindig, so he had to remind himself that this was Pepper, that recent events aside he'd known her for ten years, and that Melisse was one of her favorite restaurants.

When he descended the stairs, finally, Pepper was sitting at the piano, her fingers trailing idly over the keys. Wrapped in a knee-length dress of fluttery aquamarine tissue with a wide belt the color of sand, her tied loosely at the nape of her neck and then falling to her back in waves, all he could think of, absurdly, was Ariel. From the Disney film. The one with the mermaid.

Get a grip, he told himself. Comparisons to a Disney Princess typically isn't seen as a compliment by most women.

"Where are you taking me?" she said, the music falling quiet.

Tony crossed to the piano and took a sip from the tumbler of scotch she'd poured herself. Up close he could see the outlines of her breasts through the sheer fabric.

"You'll like it, I promise."

Happy eyed them morosely as he held the doors to the Rolls, but he didn't say anything, and the drive to Santa Monica was pleasantly charged. Pepper smiled at him, let him tuck a flyaway strand of her hair behind her ear, then reached over to straighten his pocket kerchief and kissed him lightly on the cheek when she finished.

They lingered over the carte blanch menu and by the time dessert arrived he was buzzing with wine and anticipation, and Pepper had flushed pink.

"As lovely as this has been, Tony, I think I'd like you to take me to bed, now," she said. "If that's alright."

  
"Mr. Stark," Happy said, after Pepper had already slipped back into the car and he'd shut the door. Tony waited, but Happy just gave him the hang-dog face he'd been wearing all day.

"Duly noted, Hogan, whatever it is. I think the lady would like to get back, though, if we may."

  
He led her by the hand through the quiet house to one of the empty guest rooms, where he'd set up the bouquet of roses, every color the shop had carried, and an array of white candles on every surface. At her quizzical look, he shrugged.

"Wanted to start fresh," he said, and she kissed him.

"It's beautiful," she said when she'd pulled back. She set her purse on the nightstand and fingered one of the roses.

As he lit the candles, Jarvis began playing quiet jazz. "Care to dance?" he asked her.

The dress was silk, and felt like nothing under his hands. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, and they swayed in place for a couple of songs, until the warmth of her began to make him lightheaded. Her hands slipped down his waist to his rear, and she quirked a grin up at him.

"Too much?"

"Not enough," he said, and his mouth met hers until he wasn't sure where he ended and she began.

Pepper's nimble fingers loosened his tie but left it in place, then started in on the buttons to his shirt, pulling it from his waistband. He found the delicate zipper in the back of the dress and traced it down to the small of her waist, and she unfolded from the silk ruffles like a butterfly breaking free of a cocoon. He helped her step out of the dress and draped it over a chair, and she stood before him in nothing but a thong and her sandals. As she reached down to slip them off, he caught her chin with one finger.

"I like them," he said.

"I'll leave them on, then."

He'd been wearing his father's cuff links, the Julius Caesar coins, to dinner, and she carefully removed them and set them on the dresser. Stripped him of his belt and tossed it onto the bed, then peeled open his trousers and ran her hand down the erection inside.

"Okay," he breathed.

He gently tugged at the barrette holding her hair back and loosened the strands over her shoulder with his fingers, his hands sliding down the fine skin of her back.

"Tony," she said, "I'm not made of glass."

"I know," he said, planting kisses along her breastbone. "Let me enjoy this bit." He could feel her laugh against his lips.

He walked them backwards to the bed, and she sat on the edge, pulling his trousers down past his knees. He kicked them free and she scooted back onto the comforter, spread out before him.

"For a notorious cad, you sure know how to woo a girl," Pepper grinned. She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him take off his shirt and undershirt, leaving the tie in place.

"Good boy," she purred, as he crawled up onto the bed, straddling her thighs. She reached out and tugged on one of the ends of the tie, until the knot tightened up against the hollow of his throat.

Her breasts fit into the palms of his hands as if they'd been made for it. He spent a long moment just exploring her body, all the lines of her, all the places he hadn't had time to enjoy the first time, when they'd fucked before he quite knew what was happening.

Pepper lay back and watched him, her eyes heavy lidded. He was so engrossed that when she moved, suddenly, he just rolled with it. She tipped him over and wrapped one hand around the tie, yanking it close to his throat as she climbed on top of him, planting her knees on either side of his chest.

"Playtime's over," she said, with a wide grin.

"Hey," he protested. The tie dug into his Adam's apple, not quite painful, not quite cutting off his air. "I thought we were doing this my way this time."

"Your way takes too long."

His dick agreed. Especially when she reached behind her and gave it a quick stroke.

"Who's the boss here?"

"Seriously, Tony, do you really think you've ever been in charge of this? Of anything?" Pepper leaned forwards, reaching for the nightstand. He reached for her and she batted his hands away, so he cupped her breasts again.

Then he saw what she'd taken out of her purse. And tried to sit up.

"Yeah, I don't know about that game, Pepper. I mean--"

And before he had the sense to push her away, she'd clicked one loop of a pair of plastic quick-tie handcuffs around his right wrist, passed the other end through one of the bars of the headboard, and yanked the other loop around his left wrist, securing him in place.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, pulling at the plastic. He might be able to break the wood of the headboard, if he had to. "Pepper, I just, I don't know about this."

"About what?" she said sweetly, moving down to sit on his knees, effectively immobilizing him. "It's not like this is the first time for you, am I right?"

"What?"

"Come on, Tony. I had to untie you once when a girl left you like this. Don't give me that."

"Yeah, but. That was... awhile ago," he ended, lamely.

She shut him up with a messy kiss, nipping at the corner of his mouth, her body stretched out over his, the heels of her shoes digging into his calves. He couldn't quite draw enough air, even though she'd released the tie. This wasn't... this wasn't...

"This wasn't what I wanted," he managed, when she pulled back.

"No? It's what I wanted." Pepper sat up again, her weight on his thighs. "Now. What were you doing this morning, with Everhart?"

"What?" The slow burn of the panic over the plastic digging into his wrists was pushed aside by utter confusion. "Christine?"

"Christine," Pepper echoed. "You saw her today. What did you talk about?"

"Are you _following_ me?"

She laughed. "Christ, Tony, you're naive. Yes, I followed you. Did you think I'd stayed here, daydreaming about our date?"

Had someone slipped something into his wine at Melisse?

"Nothing," he insisted, pulling at the twist of plastic that secured him to the bed. "She acted like she didn't even know me."

Pepper's hand drifted down to trace the circumference of the arc reactor. "Nothing. She just happened to be in the flower shop you frequent the very minute you decided you needed to buy me flowers."

"Yes. Yes!" His heart flopped in his chest as her fingers tapped the reactor.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know! Pepper, please, stop it. Just. Whatever you think happened--"

"So she didn't ask you anything more about the Dollhouse?" At that, she twisted the reactor a click, loosening it in its setting.

He bucked, panicked, but she had the leverage and balance and slapped his cheek, lightly.

"No! No. No, she... she said it was all a hoax. Her ed-editors were teasing her about it. Christ, Pepper, put it back."

Pepper lifted the reactor out of the casing, leaving the wire attached.

"Hmm. You're sure?" With a flip of her wrist, the reactor came free, the wire dangling down. She held it out, studying the silentwhiteblue glow. "It really is beautiful," she said, as if to herself.

She didn't believe him. She didn't-- why did it even matter, why was she doing this, why--

"Why not?"

He must have been babbling out loud. He could barely hear her over the throbbing of his heart, and even though he knew it was too soon his chest burned, and he'd gone cold all over.

"Pepper--"

Her head tilted to the side, and her eyes went unfocused. The hand holding the arc reactor dropped to her side, and she stared at him, her face gone grey.

"Tony?" her voice was so small, he could hardly make out the word. "Oh god, Tony, you're... how did you get here?"

A laugh, jagged and breathless, and he couldn't look away from her face, from the way she was blinking at him, like she'd just woken up.

"You've got a hole in your chest," she said, and the detached horror in her voice snapped a little of himself back in place.

"I know," he rasped. How long had it been, since she'd taken the thing out? Five minutes? He pushed away the insanity of it and the screaming panic in his head and tried to go with the flow, at least until he knew he wasn't going to have a heart attack, right here, tied to a bed that wasn't even his. "You've got... you've got a device, in your hand. You need to put it back in the hole, okay?"

Pepper lifted the arc reactor and turned it in her hand. "It looks like the reactor you've got in--"

"I know. It's... complicated. Please, Pepper, there's a wire. You have to--"

She leaned over him, peering down into the hole in his chest, her hair swinging over her shoulders. "There's like... a socket in there."

"I know. It's easy, you just have to snap it in place. Like plugging in a toaster." His laugh this time came out as a cough. The burning in in his chest seemed to expand exponentially. At least this time she was right there, and he didn't need to worry about saving her from Obadiah.

"Why are you tied to the bed?" Pepper asked.

"I don't know, I don't know. Pepper, please, please just do it. Put it back."

He was holding his breath. Or maybe he just couldn't breathe. As he watched, the muscles of her face shifted, and she shook her head like she was trying to clear it.

"Where was I?" she asked, the edge back in her voice.

There was shouting and he wasn't sure where it was coming from, if it was even real.

"Miss Potts? Mr. Stark? Tony?"

Before either he or Pepper had a chance to react, Happy came barreling through the door. He skidded to a stop, his mouth half open like he meant to call for them again.

"Fucking Hogan. I told Adelle to take care of it, but she's too goddamn conceited to listen to good advice," Pepper said.

"Hogan," Tony gasped. "You were right, there's something..."

"Yeah, boss, I know," Happy said. "Pepper, I really think--"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Tony, how many babysitters do you _have_," Pepper growled, and he didn't know what she meant to do, but black spots were crowding out his vision, and it wasn't like _he_ was going to be able to do anything.

Turned out he didn't have to.

"Isn't it time for your treatment?" Happy said, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Pepper seemed to consider this. As insane as the question was, it wasn't nearly as insane as the rest of his night.

"What did you say?" she asked, as if genuinely puzzled.

Happy took a step closer to the bed. "I think it's time for you to have your treatment, Miss Potts," he said.

"Oh." Pepper smiled at him. "That sounds like a good idea."

  
"Tell me I'm crazy."

Happy shook his head. "You're not crazy."

After Pepper had dropped into the Active conditioning, Happy had taken the arc reactor from her hand and screwed it into Tony's chest. By then, Tony hadn't been able to talk, his eyes wide and glassy and nearly mindless with terror.

"Tell me Pepper wasn't just channeling my old CFO, there. That was him, right?"

Happy glanced over to where Pepper sat, wrapped in one of Tony's robes on the living room couch, quietly attentive but blank, as if they weren't talking about her at all.

"I don't know. I know it wasn't her."

"How is this even... that wasn't Pepper." Tony was still shocky, his face the color of wet cement. His hands shook as he picked up his glass of whatever Happy had poured for him. Happy hadn't been paying too much attention to the label on the bottle.

"No, it wasn't," Happy repeated. "But we can get her back."

"How? Shouldn't you be calling in the men with the white coats at this point?" Tony laughed, a splintered sound, and swallowed another gulp of liquor.

"The Dollhouse is real," Happy said carefully. "They took her out, they can put her back again."

"Yeah," Tony said. "And everything will go back to normal, right?"

There wasn't anything to be said to that. When the shock wore off, Tony was going to kill him. Possibly with his repulsors. Hopefully it would be quick.

DeWitt didn't argue this time, when Happy told her he was bringing Pepper in. They'd all seen the spike in her vitals, the brief dual brain waves.

Topher met them at the door, his eyes widening at Tony's presence.

"What's he doing here?"

"Not killing you, I suppose," Happy said. Tony's face was carved from granite.

"It shouldn't have been possible, for a previous personality to break through like that," Topher said, bouncing alongside Happy as Tony led Pepper by the hand through the resort-spa lie of the Dollhouse's interior. "I mean, it's happened, once. With Echo. But I thought it was an anomaly."

DeWitt was waiting for them in her office.

"Mr. Stark, I apologize that your first experience with one of our actives turned out problematic. I assure you--"

"There are only two things I need from you," Tony said, never sounding more like Iron Man. "You'll restore Pepper. Back to how she was before you all started messing with her mind."

DeWitt nodded, her mouth set in a thin line. "You should know that this will place her back before your return from Afghanistan."

If that shook Tony, it didn't show. Happy tried to melt into invisibility. Pepper gave him a vacant smile. When Tony didn't continue, DeWitt turned and poured out two porcelain cups of tea.

"And the second thing?"

She handed one of the cups to Tony, and took a sip from the second. Tony stared at the tea as if unsure what he was supposed to do with it.

"I want this place gone. Out of Los Angeles."

"That's not under my control, Mr. Stark. We all have superiors. Mine are rather adamant that we stay."

"I don't think you understand," Tony ground out.

"No, I think perhaps it's you who is misunderstanding the situation. Did you think S.H.I.E.L.D. was unaware of our business here? They own quite a few shares of our parent company, Rossum, in fact."

Tony's chin jerked in something like a nod. "I see," he said. Happy was pretty sure he didn't, yet.

"In fact, one of the crucial breakthroughs that allowed us to do what we do came from a piece of Stark Industries technology."

"Impossible," Tony said. "I've never sold anything to you people."

"On the contrary. You sold the rights to manufacture a sophisticated piece of medical imaging technology to Rossum. We've only put it to, shall we say, a broader use than you imagined. Maybe you'd like a demonstration? Since we are to restore Miss Potts for you."

"Am I going for my treatment now?" Pepper piped up. "I want to make sure I'm at my best."

  
Some detached part of Tony's mind was able to admire the sophistication of the interface DeWitt's mad scientist, Brink, had cobbled together from bits of existing technology. And the implications of what they were accomplishing here, if what Happy had said was true, were staggering. But the rest of him was in some kind of hellish hallucination where Pepper followed Hogan like a lobotomized puppy and willingly sat down in the chair to have her brain wiped and reinstalled. Like a hard drive. Like she was just a container.

"How long will it take?" he asked Brink, who was busy flailing around pressing buttons and entering commands into a computer terminal.

Brink's hand traced a pattern in the air. "Not long," he said. "We usually don't have... visitors. Watching. So I'm a little nervous."

Brink pulled out what looked like a DAT tape and plugged it into a slot in the chair. Happy helped Pepper lay back, like she was at the dentist, and she closed her eyes.

"Will it hurt her?" his voice had gone thready. If he'd had the armor this place would have been in smoking ruins already. But then he'd have been left with nothing.

Brink shrugged. "Depends," he said, and then the headpiece of the chair lit up and Pepper's back arched, her hands closing into fists, and then it was over.

She sat up with Happy's assistance and blinked at them. She frowned at Brinks, as if trying to place him, and then her gaze fell on Tony.

"Oh my God, Tony--" She was out of the chair in a flash, then hovered in front of him. "You're back, you're alive! How did you get back? When did you-- oh my God."

Tony stiffened.

"I told you she'd have no memory of the time since your kidnapping," DeWitt said from the doorway, and her voice was almost gentle.

  
"Adelle, we gotta tell them--"

"Topher, if I could have a bit of privacy, it's been a very long day."

"What Stane ordered up. You know it wasn't just the standard imprint. There were hormonal changes. Potts should be informed."

"What exactly do you suggest we tell Miss Potts?"

"The hyperovulation--"

"Either she'll never know the difference, or she'll discover the results in time. There's little we can do about it now."

"What exactly did Stane have in mind? That's the thing that kills me."

"You're a smart boy, Topher. I think you can put it together."

  
Pepper Potts stood in front of the red and gold contraption of articulated titanium alloy and traced the circular window in its chest with her fingers. She knew Tony was watching her from his workshop desk. Knew there were things he wasn't telling her, hadn't told her yet. But for now there was this machine he'd built, and everything she didn't remember, and she had no idea where she fit anymore. Where to start.

  
"Time to push the button!"

"But you'll die!"

"Just do it!"

And she did.

She'd always put him first. That was just the kind of person she was.


End file.
